


Folie à Deux

by ketomax



Series: Blue Blood, Red Blood, We're All Brothers Here [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Misgendering, Running Away, Swearing, Trans Gavin, child neglect (through refusing to accept transgender kid), deadnaming, gavin and elijah are twins and you cannot change my mind, kid favouritism?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-11
Packaged: 2019-06-09 00:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15255906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ketomax/pseuds/ketomax
Summary: Madness of Two, a shared delusion, twins divided.This is how Gavin Reed came to be.Gavin Reed was a creation, but that didn’t make him any less real. In fact, it made him more authentic than before.This is chapter one of Folie à Deux, exploring the origin of the man we know as Gavin Reed.





	Folie à Deux

Her heart raced as her mother called her to the study.

This whole situation sucked. Her twin brother was graduating early from university while she was still plodding away trying to secure a diploma; all the while she was struggling by herself to make the best of the circumstances. With Elijah being so brilliantly minded, all their parents’ attentions went on him; she figured in their mind she wasn’t worth the effort and clearly wasn’t as gifted. She was good at a few things, her room sparse with a few certificates for minor sporting achievements in track and field. Sports gear was good at confining her form and it was that that first gave her confidence to be more herself. Plus, she would always be able to run fast if she needed to escape for whatever reason, something she knew might come in handy.

A strange pressure had been building inside her for some years now, making everything inside her head feel a little like it was two inches to the left. Something inside her wasn’t right, and no matter what she did or tried to do, it didn’t alleviate the strange discomfort that had suddenly rocked up one day and made her life hell. She had fought her mother on every haircut, every outfit for events, everything that she wanted to do to make herself feel more human, and yet her mother was having none of it. A daughter was supposed to look pretty, be demure, and work hard; none of those things were even close to applying to Serah. Living a lie like this was going to drive her crazy and she knew she wasn’t far from snapping and making some big changes in her life.

 _God above,_ it sucked having a genius brother that could do no wrong. It wasn’t even that she was a bad student, it was just that she wasn’t a particularly _good_ one and to her parents, she may as well not exist unless her report cards started showing A’s instead of D’s. It left a sour taste in her mouth when her reports were littered with how hard she tried to do well, and her parents still disregarded them like they were a waste of the paper they were printed on. Her brother on the other hand got gold stars and glowing reviews for his extended projects, essays, and all around golden boy performance.

The sad thing was that they got on well as far as siblings go, the two of them rarely arguing and Elijah even helped her with her homework sometimes, on the odd occasions he was home from university. She could see how naturally gifted he was and she sometimes sat and watched him work enjoying the fluidity and precision in his machinations. If she had even an ounce of his talent, she would have felt much better about herself, she was sure. There was one thing Elijah was spectacularly ignorant about though; that was that his success was just wearing down his sister’s desire to succeed. She knew it wasn’t fair to blame him of course, but it was like he didn’t even see the tears that pricked her eyes every time mother and father gave him praise, while she was stood next to him like a spare part.

Her mind was pulled back to the present when she heard her mother call yet again, voice shattering what little peace she could find in her headspace. Whenever her mother called her, it was usually to further humiliate her and to poke at her insecurities; she knew this wasn’t going to be any different. A deep breath filled her lungs and she took the few remaining steps towards the source of the beckoning call.

She felt her pulse soar even higher and her mouth become barren and dry as her trembling hand reached out to grasp the cold brass handle, pushing it down to open the heavy oak door to the study. Abigail, her mother, was sat in the maroon plush velvet chair to the side of the antique desk and she could barely stand the sight of such opulence in the study. Afternoon sunlight filtered through the large bay window, casting a grid pattern over Abigail and the wall behind her. A picture of her father Jeremiah was on the far wall, his judgemental gaze made her feel somewhat uneasy. He was the kind of person to showcase his expensive acquisitions, and the study was a monument to all his antiques and finery. It was no coincidence then that it was one of Elijah’s favourite rooms to work in. The implications of that thought made her shiver in disgust.

“You called for me?”

The woman looked up, her face was soft and comforting, but her eyes were hiding something she could only pinpoint as mild disdain. Her daughter was hiding behind the door, trying her best to put distance between them. “Yes, Serah, dear. Come take a seat, I have something for you to wear.”

Serah tentatively entered the room, hearing the door click closed with a push. Anxiety and fear began to curl in her throat, and soon the anxiety dropped from there to the pit of her stomach, feeling it knot and tangle like some kind of wild garden weed. It took hold and rooted, making itself known the feeling was there to stay.

 _What a stupid fucking name,_ she thought to herself; it had never settled on her tongue and only succeeded in making herself more uncomfortable. Mother’s promise of a gift only meant further torture, especially if she had to wear it in public, which given the day and the lack of Elijah about the house all but confirmed that theory. It would make her skin itch knowing that so many eyes would be raking over her form, judging her, commenting on bits of her that she absolutely despised, and she wanted no part of the whole disastrous shit show.

Abigail spoke again drawing Serah from her anxious spiral. She sensed her daughter was drifting and startled her just enough to get her to focus on the situation at hand. It was a shame that she couldn’t be more like Elijah, so bright and so promising but then again, he was one in a million. “This is to wear to your brother’s graduation tonight. You will _not_ embarrass us at the ceremony, this is for your brother- so let us all show how proud we are of him,” she said as she unfurled the dress, knowing full well the implication was that she was sick of her daughter’s surly attitude. Abigail held the dress across her hands, letting the sunlight dance across the black fabric.

It was silken, lacy around the neck, and absolutely _disgusting._ Everything about it made her skin crawl, it was an evening dress made to flaunt _bits_ she didn’t want to flaunt. The sheen lay against her hands and she felt the burning sensation in her stomach begin to flare up and rear its ugly head.

This had gone on too long. The feeling coiling in her stomach was unstable, the bright spark that had stirred within her had failed to be put out and Serah was now the catalyst of unstoppable energy. Fear had settled in, but instead of it startling her like a wild deer, it bolstered her anger like a raging buck and she was done pussyfooting around. This feminine form of hers was obsolete and not fit for purpose- the only time she had ever felt comfortable was strapped up doing track, listening to late noughties pop and rock filled with anthems of rebellion and self-independence.

And in an instant, the fire reached its peak, exploding in a bright white heat fuelled by gasoline. Serah snapped and wouldn’t let fear rule her any longer.

In a flash, she reached out and snatched the dress from her mother’s hands and _snarled_ like a wounded animal. “I am not wearing - _this-_ to his stupid fucking graduation!” She punctuated the ‘this’ by thrusting it inches in front of her mother’s face, shaking. When her mother reached out to take it back, she yanked it out of her reach gripping to the dress like a vice. It was out there now, her anger, the flames of her rage had stoked too high, too fast, and too quickly; Serah was like an uncaged white dove- the taste of absolute freedom now beneath her wings carrying her to a liberty she had only dreamed of.

Abigail was stunned by the outburst from her daughter. Serah was never the perfect lady that much was true- she had always preferred rougher activities and fighting with Elijah over being modest and good natured. “Serah Charity Kamski, apologise for that outburst at once, and mind your language!” she snapped as she rose from her chair, using her full given name for extra effect. She would not have her daughter behave this surly, not any more. If she didn’t put her foot down now, things would get _worse_.

She trembled but did not relent and clutched the dress angrily as the tears began to prick in the corners of her eyes. “I don’t give a _fuck_ about my language! I have had it with this pretentious bullshit!” she felt her fingers slide against the sheer fabric and refused to ever again be subjected to that torment- and then the decision was made for her. In an instant, she knew what she had to do. Serah grabbed the dress with both hands, knowing her mother was watching her like a hawk aghast and stunned at her arrogance and in one swift separating motion the dress was torn asunder, and it echoed like a thunderclap does in a vast silent night’s sky.

Abigail all but shrieked as she watched the dress rip in two and snatched the tattered fabric from Serah’s angry shaking hands. “How _dare you_ -” she began, voice wavering too much to form a full sentence. “This was expensive, a work of art- you always have been the ungrateful one, Serah-”

 

Comparing her to her brother had always been a sore spot.

 

_Oh, why can’t you be more like Elijah?_

_He’s so smart…_

_He’s so generous…_

_Can’t you try a little harder, like Elijah does?_

_Your brother is pleasure to teach, unlike you._

“Stop calling me Serah!” she shouted, finding the voice deep inside, feeling it rumble and reverberate like a lion’s strong bellowing roar. The voice screamed to her, it was not whispering or delicate like a soft blooming flower- it was wild and unpredictable like an erupting volcano. It called for strength and determination and resilience. Serah shook, feeling her entire body fill with fear… or was it confidence? She wasn’t sure. “I’m not- I’m not a fucking girl mother, stop calling me a girl! I’m a fucking boy and I don’t care if you don’t like it but I’m not gonna sit here and put up with this shit anymore!”

Rage flashed across Abigail’s face, a short sharp change in her features that told the younger twin they were not welcome in this house with that attitude. From the twitches by her eye, to the wrinkles forming in the corner of her mouth, it was displeasure at best and snide hatred at worst. She swallowed aggressively, and it made _Serah_ visibly flinch. “I’m going to give you one chance to retract that statement, daughter mine, and apologise at once for your outburst.”

No backing down.

No giving in.

This was Last Chance _Serah_ , and she wasn’t about to lay down and die now.

“Fuck you. I’m not a fucking girl and I’m not wearing a fucking dress to my shitty brother’s fucking graduation! I’m a boy- I’m a boy like my brother- you always say be more like your brother so that’s what I’m fucking doing!” _he_ grabbed a pillow from the chair and chucked it at her knowing it was a weak threat, he was trembling and feeling sick. Yet the fire still burned inside him, and it would not be quelled so easily. He knew his mother would not like this one bit- and all he could do was to kick over the priceless lamp as he stormed towards the door, making sure to stomp extra loud so the outside was as loud as the inside of his mind. The rage and displeasure inside him finally had a name, and it was he, him, and his.

“I’m gonna fucking leave before you kick me out- don’t expect me at the graduation tonight. I’m gone… just like you always wanted.”

And with that, he was gone. He could hear his mother shouting for her precious _daughter_ to come back, a noise which he soon shut out as he stormed to his room and grabbed a duffel bag. Shirts, jeans, shoes, whatever he could fit was unceremoniously thrown in the bag unfolded and he made his way out of the front gates never to look back again. At least Elijah wasn’t there to make things complicated. He didn’t want Elijah to remember him like this.

 

 

He wandered on busses and trains and metro systems until he found his way to some motel on Route 422, having a long time to ponder on a name and an identity. He’d cut his hair short in the grimy truck stop toilet stall, finding poetic justice in the disgusting surroundings that seemed to bear his new beginnings. A little more travelling led him to end up in Butler, PA. It was a quaint little city that was nothing like his home city; it was smaller and calmer and a lot slower in pace. He wandered along the streets, and he ended up grabbing some more masculine clothes from the Clearview Mall. When he bound tight with sports gear, he felt so much more confident and comfortable; there was no going back to misery, not now.

While the place was nice, it wasn’t… right for him, and he carried on knowing somewhere out there was a stomping ground just waiting for his impact to hit it like a meteor.

More busses and trains followed along with some sleepless nights in bus shelters, and finally after what felt like an eternity he stepped out into Detroit with a new identity in his head. Someone himself, someone he could create from scratch without his family influence or his brother giving him unrealistic goals to achieve. Someone uniquely him. This was his story, to do whatever he pleased with, and god be damned he was going to face it with his head held high.

The bus stop came into view and he grabbed his bag when the bus finally ground to a halt, slinging it over his shoulder and set his first foot on Detroit soil or rather concrete. The air was different here, it settled around him with a promise of better things. People walked past, unaware who he was, and the sense of anonymity was a weight off his shoulders. Nobody cared he was the stupid twin here… he was a legend waiting to be written. A noise startled him from behind, and his fingers loosened just enough for his bag straps to slip from them, the duffel bag thudding to the ground unceremoniously.

“What’s your name kid, you look new here, judgin’ by your bag. You lost?” a gruff voice sounded out beside him, and it took him a while before he realised he was stood in awe at the surroundings. He turned around, voice a little croaky and he coughed giving him time to form a more… masculine tone. The man was wearing a Detroit Police Department uniform and was sipping on a coffee, his collar popped undone and tie loose around his neck. Just finished duty for the evening, he guessed.

“G-Gavin. Gavin Reed. Nah I’ve seen big cities… come from New York. I can figure out where I’m goin’ pretty quickly. Looking for a place to settle and write my own story, ya know?” It felt right on his tongue to say his name, his gruff accent from arguing with his mother coming in handy giving him weight behind his words. “… what’s it to you, anyway?” Gavin narrowed his eyes, bristling, his confidence coming from feeling like he wasn’t passing well enough.

The older man just laughed and shook his head, patting a comforting hand on his shoulder which felt more reassuring than anything his father had ever done. “You better not get into the habit of bad mouthing the police, son. I’m Officer Anderson, and don’t you forget it. You got a strong sense of justice? You come down to the precinct and try out. Simple as. Always looking for new recruits.”

Gavin listened to him and felt a sense of justice stir inside him. What was right and what was wrong- the power lay within his hands to make things right. He knew what he had to do and nodded, his future unfurling in front of his eyes. Officer Reed… no, better. Detective Reed. That was more like it. “Might just do that, old man,” Gavin winked and smirked a little, his personality already shining through now that he could be himself without fear of being degraded back in line. He grabbed his bag from the floor and set off, a skip in his step at the prospect of a better life and a future job- although the lingering bitterness of his family name wouldn’t escape him for long, as he would soon discover.

Hank merely smirked behind his coffee, that boy was going to cause a fuss for sure. With an attitude like that and a healthy disregard for authority, things were surely going to change around here; for the better, he hoped. He could see the wild fire burn brightly inside him and wondered exactly how someone so young had such fight inside him. Clearly Gavin Reed had a story to tell, and Hank had a feeling he’d be around to hear it sooner or later. He raised his coffee cup in his direction and made a soft noise of agreement, mumbling something quietly to himself.

“Good luck, kiddo.”

**Author's Note:**

> !! X-Posted on gavin-kamski.tumblr.com !!
> 
> Whew! This has been several days in the writing stage, and a few weeks in the brainbox! I’ve had a few people read through this, so many apologies if there are still some errors.
> 
> I know there’s a hefty amount of misgendering here but that was done entirely on purpose. I myself am a trans man, and a lot of this comes from personal experience, so I hope that you can look past that, and relate to the suffering that Gavin is clearly feeling.
> 
> The next chapter will hopefully focus more on Elijah and the shit he’s getting up to, how he’s coping with his twin being conveniently excised from his life.
> 
> As always, please send any comments along, and I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed (and struggled!) writing it. Gods know I put more effort into this than any of my A Level essays.
> 
> This is written by the same person who wrote a lot of those trans Gavin and twin bro Elijah headcanons, @the-great-poolkid on tumblr.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [You Are Not Alone](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15485964) by [Cinno_Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinno_Angel/pseuds/Cinno_Angel)




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